The Street
by BorisTheBlade
Summary: Changes are being made around Sesame Street... This isn't your little sibling's Sesame Street anymore. I think the best way to describe this would be Pulp Fiction meets Sesame Street.
1. The Beginning

**The Street**

Part 1

Chapter 1

Bert and Ernie were slowly walking towards Sesame Street. Of course Ernie, who is not one to be the quiet type, struck up a conversation with Bert. It was obvious Bert wanted to talk to Ernie about as much as he wanted to shove his head in a waffle iron and smash his head into a Belgium waffle. Nevertheless, Ernie persisted with making conversation, as was his particular _idiom_.

"Hey, Bert..." Ernie began

"What do you want?" Bert answered, annoyed

"How is it that we and all the other people on the show try to make people believe that the whole thing is on one particular street? I mean, we have things like Count's castle and all sorts of other damn things and they all sit neatly on one street, Sesame Street. Aren't people going to question this? Realize that it's not possible in and way..."

"You're a Muppet, Ernie, and you're talking about what's possible and impossible? Your version of reality is royally screwed, my friend."

"You see? Reality. That's exactly what I'm talking about. Why can't we just change it up a little? You know, the whole God damn show doesn't have to be on one street. Why can't we say _'Let's go over to Barley Street and talk to those kooky Mexicans that are always talking to us.'_?"

"Well, first off, that's a racist comment." Bert retorted

"No it's not. They are from Mexico, thus they're Mexicans. There is nothing racist about that statement." Ernie defended

"Well, the way you presented it made it appear racist."

"_Look!_ You're getting off track, the point is there is absolutely no realism to the show."

By this time, Bert was becoming quite fed up with Ernie's sudden rash of critical thinking. When the _hell_ did Ernie grow a brain? In between sleeping and taking a bath with his rubber ducky?

"There is no realism to the fucking show because, for the simple reason, the show is for _children_. Do kids care that it is impossible to have all this colorful shit on one lonely street? No, they couldn't care less."

"Why are you getting so defensive about this all of a sudden?" Ernie remarked

"Well, for one thing I don't give a crap about the scientific reasons and impossibilities in effect on Sesame Street for the simple reason that our presence on the show is eventually not gonna' mean dick." Bert exclaimed

"What are you talking about?" Ernie replied

"Alright, here's the deal. Check it: You've seen all these new shows on PBS, right? They're all new and modern and shit while we're sitting pretty much in the same place when the damned show started. Secondly, our characters on Sesame Street used to have a significant part but now we aren't getting as much screen time. Plus, it doesn't make me happy who the most hyped of the damned cast is."

"Who is the most hyped of the cast?" Ernie interrupted

"Elmo." Bert replied

"Elmo?! That homosexual ball of fluff?"

"Yeah, I said the same thing. He's getting more screen time, he has his own little section, _Elmo's World_, and his fucking merchandise always is snatched up like hotcakes when Christmas comes around."

As they talked they finally arrived at Sesame Street. The street, which, as Ernie said, was actually a number of smaller streets branching out all over the place. The tall brick apartment buildings loomed over the heads of Bert and Ernie.

"Here we are... again..." Ernie sighed

"C'mon, let's go get in character." Bert said and slapped Ernie on the back.

.... 

"I believe in Public Television. Public Television's made my fortune. I raised my children on PBS. I've been living on Sesame Street for so long. It's my home. Then, those monsters come out of the woodwork... and they want to evict me. They want to throw me out to make room for someone new. They say I no longer have anything to give to the community, that my usefulness has run out. But, _Oh mi Dios_, it is not right... it is unfair and I know that you have power. I know that you can do something. Please, do what I beg you to do."

Sr. Ricardo stared at the woman across from him as she said her speech. She was pleading for her livelihood. However, she showed disrespect. She came to him not in friendship but asking for favors. Things like this, he did not tolerate.

"And what is it you beg me to do, Maria?" questioned Ricardo

"Please, find a way to allow me to stay on Sesame Street. For my children... for me."

"You may overestimate my power, Maria."

"How much do I pay you?" Maria asked in a last ditch attempt

Ricardo shook his head. She was acting disrespectful before but now, with the inclusion of money; it was like she stabbed him in the chest. Her disrespect was overwhelming.

"You find yourself in trouble... so where do you turn? To me. You know that I have friends in high places. You realize this but, nevertheless, when was the last time you did a favor for me? Why, even something as small as inviting me over for tea and biscuits would show you're respect for me. But, instead, you come into my house and say _'Sr. Ricardo give me justice.'_ I must turn you down. Sesame Street is going to be modernized and things are going to be added. They must move out unnecessary cogs in the machine. That's just what you are. It's not personal, it's business."

"_PLEASE_, Sr.! Any amount, name it!"

"And there you go again!" Sr. Ricardo started, enraged, "Your disrespect for me is horrible and ugly. All these years I help you, take you under my wing and you repay me with belligerence! You don't even think to call me _Padre_!"

Immediately, with the harshness of these words, Maria knew where she had faulted. She had mistreated her father too long. He was the one that helped her move to Sesame Street. She should be grateful but as time went on he became different and she shunned the new father that grew from the old. She cut off contact, until now. She realized her wrongs.

"Please... help me." Maria stuttered, "_Padre..._" 

She went around the desk to where her father was sitting and kissed him on the cheek and wrapped her arms around his neck. This was all Ricardo wanted, love and respect. He patted her hand and began to speak.

"I will help you, Maria. Do not pack your things. Stay in your home. By sundown this will all be behind you."

Maria was overwhelmed with joy. She kissed her father's hand and embraced him once more.

"Gracias, _Padre_."

And with that she exited Ricardo's office. Ricardo watched as his daughter walked out of the room in a joy he had never seen on her face. She really loved the place she lived. Oh, but little did she know Sesame Street was about to be turned upside down. So many things were going to happen and so many changes will take place soon that she may regret wanting to stay. Ricardo, too, was saddened by the future plans for the street. He was reminded of fond memories of it from so long ago.

.... 

Kermit opened his eyes. He had fallen asleep on his desk. Next to him stood an empty bottle of whiskey. He slowly rose from his seat behind his desk, aching all over his body. The frog had gotten himself a hangover. He got up and went to the bathroom to splash water over his face. He took a shower and afterwards came back out and snatched the paper up from its resting place under the slot in the door where the paperboy had pushed it through. He once again went to his desk and started reading the top stories. As he did so he took out his pouch of tobacco and a piece of paper and rolled himself a cigarette. He took a drag as he read about the future renovations to Sesame Street. Suddenly, a knock came at the door. Frustrated, Kermit slapped the paper back down on the table and got up to answer the door. The door was the type of door with the smoked glass in the middle of it towards the top. It also had lettering on it. _'Kermit the Frog - Private Detective'_. The door swung open to reveal a beautiful woman wearing a black veil over her face. She was almost crying and Kermit, being the kindhearted toad, let her in and brought her a seat.

"Are you Kermit the frog?" the woman asked after she was comfortable in the chair

"Yes ma'am. Would you like something to drink?" Kermit asked

"Scotch, on the rocks."

"Very well." Kermit replied and quickly made her drink and handed it to her

"Thank you... Now, if you don't mind, I would like to get down to the meaning of my visit."

"That seems reasonable." Kermit said, in between puffs of his cigarette, "May I ask who you are, ma'am?"

"Oh, of course. I am Miss Olivia Tulane."

Kermit thought for a moment. Where had he heard the name Tulane before? In his business he hears all sorts of names and then hears them again later. It's not uncommon but it is always nerve racking to not remember where he heard the name before.

"Mr. Frog?"

"What? Oh, yes." Kermit snapped out of his trancelike state. Whenever he thinks hard he forgets about all else, "I'm sorry, I was just caught up in thought trying to think of _where_ I've heard the name Tulane before."

Olivia smiled sheepishly and nodded her head in understanding. Her eyes then darted to the newspaper sitting on Kermit's desk.

"You may have read the name in your paper, Mr. Frog. My husband was in the paper this morning. He has much to do with the future changes that are to be implemented on Sesame Street."

"Please, Mrs. Tulane, call me Kermit."

"Very well, but as I said before I wish to get down to business." Olivia insisted

"Alright, what manner of business is it that we will be talking about, Mrs. Tulane?"

"Well, already I have mentioned my husband... I'm afraid that is the manner of my business."

"Did something happen to him?"

"Quite. He hasn't been home for the last few days. I've checked at work and they haven't seen him either. I fear something awful has happened to him."

"Why would you think that?" Kermit questioned

"Oh, Kermit, my husband has quite a few enemies that wouldn't mind seeing him knocked off. He's a very powerful man you see, and a smart man, but he's the kind of man that wants things done right... and lawful."

"Why would that give him enemies, Mrs. Tulane?"

"His ideas for how to make this city and Sesame Street, in particular, better are brilliant and people know this. However, they also know these ideas would be lucrative for some rather illegal activities if implemented correctly. My husband stands firmly against this and so he has been making enemies in extremely dangerous places." 

"I see, Mrs. Tulane. I'll see what I can dig up. I'll probably phone you later tonight with any information I can scrounge up."

"Thank you, Kermit. This means a lot to me." Olivia remarked pulling out a large wad of cash from her purse, "Will this be enough?"

Kermit took the wad from her and began to flip through it. She had given him almost a thousand dollars for this little job. Kermit began to get suspicious, but he didn't show it. He just smiled and nodded his head.

"Oh yes, Mrs. Tulane, this is quite enough." 

"I'm glad. Please, keep me posted, Kermit, and find out what happened to my husband."

"I will. Don't you worry about a thing."

Kermit then showed her to the door. Before exiting his office she turned to look at him briefly and then began walking down the hall. Kermit could hear her footsteps after she was out of his sight because of the echo in his apartment. He stood in the hallway, absentminded, for a moment and then re-entered his office. He sat back down at his desk and crushed what was left of his cigarette in the ashtray. He then opened one of the drawers of his desk and pulled out a flask and took a swig. Kermit knew that he was one step shy of becoming a full-blown alcoholic, but he didn't care. Alcohol helped him work.

He then picked up the phone and began to dial a number on the keypad. Halfway through dialing it he stopped. He just stopped dialing and stared at the phone. Soon the busy signal started emitting from the receiver. Kermit, in a rage, threw the phone across the room. He sat there some more, head in his hands. He then pulled a picture from the same drawer he had retrieved the flask from. In the picture was Miss Piggy, his love. He stared at the picture a moment before placing it back in the drawer and shutting it harshly. He then strolled over to the coat rack next to the door and put on his trench coat and fedora and walked out of his office.


	2. Hitmen

Chapter 2

A knock was heard in Sr. Ricardo's office. Ricardo swiveled around in his chair and slowly got up and walked over to the door and opened it. Outside it was his son, Carlos.

"Yes, Carlos, come in." Ricardo said

The older man outstretched his arm and showed Carlos to a chair at the front of his desk. Carlos, who was about 19 years old, sat down and didn't waste any time in discussing what he had heard.

"So, my sister is employing _your_ help now. Never though I'd see the day." Carlos remarked

"She hasn't grown up too much, she's still a child. A child has no respect for anything." Ricardo scorned

"And what was it she was saying about Public Television?" Carlos inquired

"Oh, that, her great idea. She has her own little PBS show she runs that teaches children shapes and numbers and bullshit like that. The thing is, Public Television is about to cancel her contract because she's about to get evicted from her place on Sesame Street. Thus, when she moves somewhere else it would be different people, different place and kids wouldn't like that they changed it and it probably wouldn't be as good anyway. She came to me so she wouldn't get evicted."

"And how are you going to manage that, _Padre_?"

"I've been reading up on this evictions. They are wrong and they are displacing many people from that area of town. Of course, things like these are never negotiated quietly. If I want to get this done I have to go to the source."

"And that is?" Carlos asked

"This one big shot. He's in charge of a lot of the changes that Sesame Street will be undergoing from buildings, to more businesses, and, once my ideas are implemented, a port."

"A port? Feeling nostalgic, are we _Padre_?"

"Quite, but let's never mind that right now. I want to get this finished soon enough so that Maria will be happy and I can get back to work. Carlos, do you still have the number for Bert and Ernie?"

"Yes, but why would you need those two?"

"Don't worry about _why_ worry about giving me the number." Ricardo retorted

"Si, _Padre_." Carlos replied and strolled out of the room only a reemerge a moment later with a small black book.

"Gracias, Carlos. You can go now."

"Hasta luego, _Padre_." Carlos said and kissed his father on the hand in reverence.

After Carlos had left the room and shut the door behind him Ricardo began to flip through the little black book until he came upon Bert and Ernie's number. He immediately picked up the phone and called them.

Bert was standing at a snack cart on the sidewalk. He ordered a burger and a coke. At the moment Ernie was taking care of some business at one of the cafes on Sesame Street. The thing was, Bert and Ernie were freelancers. At the moment, Ernie was acting as a shylock. The owner owed a loan shark a couple of Gs and Ernie was just who the loan shark called in to do his dirty work for him. In no time at all Ernie appeared next to Bert with a suitcase in hand.

"I trust everything went well." Bert asked

"It went just fine." Ernie answered while taking a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket

"No one lost any blood this time did they, Ernie?" Bert glanced at his orange partner

"Look, Bert, just cause I went off that one time doesn't mean every time I take a job a substantial amount of violence will be involved." Ernie exclaimed, unlit cigarette in his mouth

"Well you got the money. That's the important thing."

"Damn right it is."

Bert took a cell phone out of his pocket and began to dial a number. Ernie lit his cigarette while Bert was using the phone. Eventually a voice came on the other end of the line.

"Hello?" the voice said

"Yeah, this is Bert. I got the money."

"Were there any... problems?"

"None at all. It's kosher. Chicken soup."

"Very good. Go to the park at exactly noon and wait for one of the payphones to ring. Answer it. You'll get further instructions then."

And then the voice hung up. Bert slapped the cell phone closed. Ernie, now facing the opposite way of Bert, looked over his shoulder at him. Bert looked rather frustrated.

"What happened?" Ernie asked

"I don't like this at all." Bert remarked under his breath

Ernie still heard what he said, despite it being under his breath, "Well, what the fuck happened?"

Bert paused for a second, "What time you got?"

"What the fuck does that have to do with anything?"

"Just tell me. Jesus, I swear, you are the hardest person to talk to."

"It's 11:15. Happy, dickhead?"

"Yeah, how far is it to the park?"

"Why don't you tell me what was the thing with the guy on the phone."

"We're supposed to be at the park at noon exactly with the money so we can answer a pay phone that's gonna ring." Bert recapped

"That sounds like a setup." Ernie rationalized

"I realized that. Now, how far is it to the park?"

"A few blocks."

"Alright, in that case..." Bert started but was cut off by his ringing phone

Bert opened the phone again and raised the antenna.

"Hello?"

"Hello, this is... Bert right?" the voice on the other end asked

"Yeah, who wants to know?"

"This is Sr. Ricardo. I have heard good things about you and your partner. And the fact is, I have a job for you I think you'll be interested in. I don't pay shabby either."

Bert took a second to relay and understand all the information. He had only heard about Sr. Ricardo, never met him. He was supposed to be a crime boss, heavy in guns, drugs, gambling and ect.

"I'm interested, Senor. However, at the moment I am in the middle of another job. It shouldn't take long, though. Is this an urgent situation?" inquired Bert

"Oh, no no. Not at all. I would, however, appreciate it getting done sometime today. Just finish your other job first then come by, no rush."

"Alright, Senor, is there a number I can reach you at?"

"Of course, I can be reached at 555-9909. I hope to hear from you soon."

Ricardo hung up. Ernie was still standing off to the side, smoking his cigarette and listening in on Bert's conversation.

"So what was _that_ all about?" Ernie questioned

"We got more work after we finish our current job."

"And that's... a good thing." Ernie remarked laughing, "C'mon, it's already 11:25. Let's try and get down to the park before noon so we won't be late."

"You're finally thinking sensibly." 

Bert and Ernie then began strolling down the blocks to the park. Every once in a while they would see a guy in a trench coat or someone with sunglasses on and they would instinctively reach for their guns nestled safely in shoulder holsters under their jackets. They were sure it was going to be a setup. They wanted to be ready. Eventually they arrived at the park. It was about 11:49. Bert eyed the only row of pay phones in the park. He was looking for anything suspicious about them... Nothing. There was no one in the park who looked suspicious either, just kids playing and owners walking their dogs. Ernie lazily sat at a bench smoking a cigarette and carrying the briefcase full of cash. Minutes passed by. Finally, noon rolled around. Bert was standing near the pay phones impatiently. No one was coming near the pay phones so he didn't have to worry about missing the call. He checked his watch. The second hand moved slowly toward the top of the clock about to be 12:00 right on the button. The second it was noon one of the phones rang. Bert quickly picked up the phone and put the receiver to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Ah, good, you made it." The voice on the other end answered

"Well? What now?"

"On the bottom of that phone I taped some instructions for you. Follow them. You'll find yourself at an apartment building. Go to room 401. Knock on the door three times."

"And then what?" Bert questioned, not liking this situation at all

"You and I will have a friendly exchange of cash."

"Alright. I'll see you then."

"Good bye, Bert."

"One more thing..." Bert started

"Yes...?"

"You fuck this up in any way... You double cross us and I swear I'll have your balls, you got me?"

"Such language." The voice remarked and then hung up

Bert slammed the phone back down.

"Damnit!" he exclaimed

"What happened?" Ernie came over from his place at the bench

"We have another errand to run..." Bert murmured while taking the instructions off the bottom of the phone

"What the hell are those?" Ernie eyed the piece of paper

"Instructions to our new drop off point."

"Peachy."

And so, once again, Bert and Ernie were walking block after monotonous block just to get rid of a briefcase full of money. They were walking into the high-rise part of town after a few blocks. You know, the part of town that has an insane amount of high-rise apartments. They found the one that the directions pointed to. Outside the door was a doorbell box like you see on most big apartment buildings. Bert scanned down the list until he saw room 401. The name next to the number was "_Hoot_". Suddenly Bert became enraged. His hands clenched and he ran into the building with Ernie, wondering what the hell was going on, close behind. Bert stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the fourth floor rapidly.

"What the hell is your problem?" Ernie panted from having to run to keep up with Bert

"He's been playing me." Bert mumbled

"Who?"

"He just wanted to see me fall right into his trap."

"WHO?!" Ernie yelled

The elevator reached the fourth floor and Bert wasted no time in hopping out of the car. He drew his Beretta from under his coat, snapped the clip in place and took off the safety. Ernie pulled out his Colt .45 and did the same. They walked down the hall in a beeline until they arrived at room 401. 

"Alright... let's do it!" Ernie said rather enthusiastically.

Ernie always loved jobs when they could go in, guns blazing like some Rambo wanna-be. However, Bert knew better in this case. Bert pulled Ernie away from the door and stood to the right of it. From the side he knocked on the door. Right as he pulled his hand away shotgun blasts ripped through the wooden door and into the wall opposite it. Ernie was wide-eyed and Bert was keeping his cool. He saw the gaping holes in the door. He heard the footsteps about to check and see if there were two dead corpses outside. He would use these to his advantage. The footsteps got closer and closer until they were almost at the door. At that moment Bert sidestepped in front of the door and fired four rounds through the hole in the door. A scream and then Ernie and Bert busted in the room. 

Inside was a normal apartment... or at least what a normal apartment would look like if there were a dead corpse in the middle of it. The man lay on the carpet bleeding from his stomach, his shirt a dark red color. Three other men were in the room. Ernie saw one to the left in an armchair wide-eyed like a motherfucker. After a massive delay the man reached for a revolver in the drawer. Ernie shot him once in the chest and he fell to the ground. 

Another one was ready, however. He must have been the one that fired at the door because he held a 12-Guage square in his hands. Bert quickly dove behind the couch before the man could get off a shot. Ernie, erratically, fired at man before going behind the armchair of the hesitant man. Bert popped up from behind the couch when he though the time was right and emptied his clip on the man with the shotgun. Blood splattered on the wall behind him as the bullets ripped through his torso. Bert snatched up the 12-Guage and cocked it. The last man was staring right at Bert with a measly Colt .45 in his hand. He didn't want to die like his comrades. He then turned toward the window and jumped out. Free fall four stories. Bert and Ernie gazed out the window to see the bloody mess he became upon impact. 

Suddenly a strange gurgling sound was heard. Bert's head whirled around to see the guy Ernie had shot once in the chest. Bert ran over to him and grabbed his bloodstained shirt by the collar.

"Who hired you?!" Bert yelled at the dieing man

The man coughed blood on Bert's shirt. Bert kept yelling at him but the man just kept bleeding. Suddenly, he began to smile.

"You'll never beat him." The man choked out 

"WHO?! _HOOT_?!" Bert screamed

"I'm already dead... And you will be soon..."

The man began what seemed like a laugh but when someone coughing up blood starts laughing it begins to look more like convulsing in pain. Finally the man stopped moving all together. Bert let the man fall to the ground. He looked at his bloodstained hands and then looked back at the man. He grabbed up his Berretta that he had dropped on the ground earlier and loaded a new clip into it. He cocked it and unloaded two rounds into the dead man's head. Ernie looked at him quizzically. Bert glanced over his shoulder to his comrade.

"Never take any chances." Bert said

Bert took the case from Ernie and walked out of the carnage that used to be a hotel room. 

"Hey, Bert, where we goin'?" Ernie questioned

"To go and talk to Ricardo." Bert answered


End file.
